


Evermore

by Lystan



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Plot With Porn, you're welcome.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-12 08:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lystan/pseuds/Lystan
Summary: Brynjolf knows he is in love with the new Guildmaster but has only realized it after she goes missing for three months. Now, faced with the possibility that she may be dead, he makes a promise to the Divines to confess his feelings if they will bring her back. To his surprise, they listen.Rated M for later chapters.





	1. The Return

####  **Chapter 1 - The Return**

Brynjolf sat on the roof of Honeyside, gazing blankly at the horizon. For the last three months he'd been keeping himself as busy as he could with running the Thieves Guild, handing out jobs and making sure the coin continued rolling in. They were doing well for themselves but, with Mercer gone and their new Guildmaster in the wind, he had been left in charge as her second. Some days it was more than he could bear.

At least up here, in his solitude, he could admit to himself that he missed her. He'd known the situation was dire the first time he'd knelt in the Temple of Mara but he'd still sent his fervent prayers for her safe return. It had become a nightly routine for him, sneaking in around midnight and praying for as long as his knees could take it, hoping against hope that she would come back to him. It was silly and he usually didn't put any stock in superstition, but it was the only thing holding the helplessness at bay.

Today didn't feel different from any other day, and they had long since begun to blend together into a mixture of duty and dejected longing. Delvin, one of the Guild's top enforcers and his closest friend, might not have said anything about it to his face but the man was damned observant. Perhaps taking the few menial jobs from him had been too clear a sign of Brynjolf's edginess. Or, maybe, he was more obvious than he was willing to admit.

There had been whispers about his current state around the Guild but, between the stories of dragons and the return of the Dragonborn, Brynjolf was able to avoid being called out. The Shout from High Hrothgar had been heard all throughout Skyrim, and even he had to lend some credence to the tales brought into the Bee and Barb by weary travelers. It was currently the most discussed subject in town, even in the Cistern.

Amidst it all, he had only been able to focus on the handful of rumors that involved a female adventurer who sounded heartbreakingly familiar.

He hadn't been to the local tavern for a week. Not since the last tale he'd overheard had featured the unknown female tearing through a Thalmor stronghold like a knife through butter. Though no description was given, he couldn't help being certain that the nameless adventurature was her. It pained him to think she would be putting herself in harm's way like she always did. He'd stayed away after that - kept himself elbow deep in paperwork, staying stationed at Mercer's old desk long enough that some nights he fell asleep on it.

He stared at the cloudy sky, remembering the first time he'd met her. It was something he did with more frequency as the long days became longer. He'd known from the first moment she'd walked through the doors of the crowded inn that she wasn't like anyone else he'd ever met. She'd looked exhausted, dusty from the road and hair disheveled from traveling for gods knew how long. Her eyes, though, had been bright, intelligent and sharp as a tack.

He'd met those eyes only for a brief second as she scanned the room, and he'd felt a thrill at seeing the slight smile that had pulled up the corner of her mouth. She was beautiful and dangerous, like a Daedric weapon, and he'd wanted nothing more than to possess her from the start. Looking back, he realized he should have known even then that she was more than he could handle.

He'd been content to observe as she made her way past the full tables, not missing the way she'd lifted at least two coin purses from the patrons she brushed by. It had been the catalyst which had begun the whole relationship, the weight that tipped the scales of his initial judgement of her in favor of interaction.

He told himself his reasons had been purely business, at first, but after she'd swept the Ragged Flagon off its feet with her abilities, he'd started a subtle pursuit. Their friendly banter had taken on shades of sexual tension, and the bawdy jokes she'd sprung on him hadn't helped. She was talented and smart and too damn good looking for him to resist, but resist he had. He knew there was a betting pool on how long it took before he bedded her and had been trying to give them a run for their money. At least, that's what he told himself.

The truth he'd been hiding from everyone, including himself, was that he was afraid. Not to bed her, no. He wanted that more than life itself. What held him back was the feeling that he might never surface once he drove in and he was usually quite good at judging the depth of the waters. It had taken him more time than he cared to admit that he might have been a little over his head but last night had been the breaking point. As he'd prayed to Mara's statue, he'd sent an ultimatum along with his pleas. 

_ I've been a devout follower of Diabella, but Mara, if you're listening, I'm making a vow to you. If you bring her back to me, I will tell her all the things I've never said. _ Because nothing had been worse than his understanding that she may die without him taking the chance to tell her how he felt.  _ Bring her back and I will confess. Just give me the chance, I beg you. _

He was still pondering the exact wording of his prayer when he noticed a rider nearing the walls of Riften. Black stallions weren't common in Skyrim so it struck him with awe at seeing such a beautiful creature. So much so that he was almost too late to study the rider before they disappeared from view.

Ebony hair, as black as her horse and he knew, his heart suddenly in his throat, that she had returned. He was overwhelmed with gratitude and whispered his thanks to Mara before slipping from the roof of his Guildmasters home.

When he'd finally dropped back to the ground, he reigned himself in before he could act on impulse. He shouldn't meet her at the gate, he decided. He would meet her on equal footing, in the Cistern, on his terms. That was how he normally operated and he couldn't sink so low as to alert her to his nonsense. Surprisingly, he felt stronger than he had in months.

He could have headed to the Ratway before she'd even entered the city, but he wanted to see her. He wanted to take her in like water, to quench his thirst with the mere sight of her. He waited in the shadows, close enough that he could study her without her notice. She had the eyes of a hawk, but even so, he was confident enough in his abilities that he stayed put.

She carried a heavy bag over her shoulder, new armor and weapons hanging from her slender form like they might from a skeleton. Brynjolf frowned. She was too lean to be healthy and he wondered if she'd been eating at all. With her back to him, she unlocked the door to Honeyside with her key (like a true homeowner) and entered without looking back. He left before the door closed.

The Cistern was quiet except for the occasional thrum of a bowstring and the slap an arrow hitting the straw target. He was unable to find comfort in it though, and his nerves continued to fray behind his stoic facade.

Sapphire stopped to tell him she'd finished the job he'd given her last week. He acknowledged it with his usual distracted air, stepping to the side so she would pass him. She didn't say much else and he was able to sit himself behind the desk without further interruption.

He did his best to delve into the work he'd been putting off but only managed to shuffle papers around. He knew she would be on her way but his excitement was tinged with fear. Would she come tonight? Perhaps this wasn't her first stop, as he'd expected. She'd had a heavy load on her, maybe she needed to take care of it first. 

Rune appeared in front of him, waiting patiently for his attention. When Brynjolf finally looked up, Rune smiled. "She's back."

Brynjolf raised his eyebrows, doing his best to hide his elation. "Who's that, friend?"

Rune gave him a look, not believing a word out of his superior's mouth. "Yeera."

Brynjolf couldn't help but look toward the door. He couldn't give himself away now, not after all this and definitely not in front of Rune. Brynjolf hummed. "About damn time. Where is the lass?"

"Making her rounds in the Flagon." The other thief gave him a pointed look. "Everyone's saying hello."

His meaning wasn't lost on Brynjolf but he didn't want to be in a crowded room when they finally met. He wanted their reunion to be around as few people as he could manage for fear he might just break down as soon as she was before him. 

Brynjolf nodded. "She knows where I am."

Rune wasn't impressed but left it at that. He departed, leaving Brynjolf to stare at the cluttered desktop and attempt to control his breathing. She was so close. He could…

There were too many things he could do and he didn't have enough time to contemplate them all. The next time the door opened, Delvin and Yeera were the ones to walk through it and it took everything within Brynjolf not to jump up and sprint to them.

She still wore her armor and weapons, both looking mighty expensive. He hoped she would share the story of how she'd gotten them. Delvin was chatting with her, eliciting a brief laugh that make Brynjolf's blood rush to his head. Among other places.

When they finally got close enough, Delvin announced, "Bryn! Look what the cat dragged in!"

Brynjolf allowed himself a small smile and rose slowly from his seat. "Well, if it isn't our prodigal Guildmaster, returned! Waited long enough to get back here, lass. We were starting to think you dead."

At least, he had. Quite a few times. Yeera smiled a tired smile, but her eyes lit up in a way that had his pulse racing again. "You should know by now, Bryn, it takes quite a lot to bring me down."

He couldn't stop himself. He grinned and embraced her, whispering in her ear after she'd wrapped her arms around him in return, "I'm glad you’re safe, lass."

When she pulled away, she beamed up at him, her hands coming to rest on the tops of his hips. "Safe and sound and whole."

"You missed out on quite a bit, Yee." Delvin said. "Think you're up to bringin' us lot back under control?"

Brynjolf started, having almost forgotten he was still there. 

Yeera rolled her eyes. "I think that can wait until tomorrow, Mallory. I'm about dead on my feet right now."

"Aye, we can manage another night without the lash, I suppose." Delvin displayed his yellowed teeth in a lopsided grin. Yeera's dimples made an appearance and Brynjolf couldn't take his eyes off her.

He was surprised when she asked Delvin, "Mind if I have a minute alone with my Second, Mallory? We have a bit of catching up to do."

Delvin took in the way their arms were still loosely holding each other and smiled even more. "I could do. I'd be thinking yeh need more'n a minute, though."

Yeera glared and Delvin turned to the door with a wink. The time it took for the older man to saunter his way out of the Cistern were the most excruciating minutes of Brynjolf's life. With a resounding echo of the closing door, they were finally alone.

Her hair drifted over his fingers as she turned back to face him. Her hands remained on his waist and his still rested over her shoulder blades, ready to pull her to his chest at any moment. They looked at each other for a long time before he found it in him to step back and put the desk between them.

"Dev is right, lass. You've missed quite a lot in your absence."

Yeera watched him settle into the wooden chair, smirking when he propped his feet up on the desk like it didn't bother her, still. She slid lithely around the corner, shoving his feet off so she could perch herself there instead. She was close enough for him to touch but he held himself back, barely.

"You seem to have done just fine without me." Yeera glanced at the piles of parchment. "Not any neater, though, I see."

Brynjolf held out his hands. "You can't expect old habits to disappear overnight, dear girl. It's not in a beast's power to change it's pelt."

She surprised him again when her fingers ghosted along his bearded cheek. Wistfully, she replied, "I would never ask that of you."

He caught her hand in his own, suddenly serious. "You've been missed."

She twined their fingers together, looking at them with an intense sadness. "And you as well."

His heart stopped for just a moment before she looked around them, embarrassed. "All of you," she added too quickly, but her tone softened greatly when her eyes met his. "You all are the only family I know."

He smiled at her, squeezing just a little. "Aye, it's the same for me."

They continued to gaze at each other, their words speaking volumes for them. His eyes trailed down her face, picking up a new set of scars down her cheek. "You're looking a little worse for wear, lass."

She nodded, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. "I think that's an understatement."

He realized he was rubbing his thumb across hers and stopped. Very softly, far more so than he intended, he asked, "Where have you been?"

She looked at him, intently. After a short silence, she replied. "I would love to tell you."

She pointed at the desktop with her chin. "If you're not too busy."

With a sigh, he released her hand, letting his arm drop heavily onto the chair. "Aye, there's too much to do and so little time to do it."

He glanced at her, smirking. "I may be able to take a break for you, though."

Yeera laughed and his heart soared. "Glad to hear you can make time for me!"

His smile softened. "Of course."

He inhaled sharply and gestured to the desktop. "Can you give me an hour or so to finish up?"

She nodded with a shrug. "I could find a few things to do."

She gave him the same look he'd given her a few moments before, the Daedra in her grin. "Might I tempt you with dinner at my humble abode?"

He pretended to consider it. "I did have my heart set on Keerava's rabbit stew, but...I already seem to be making exceptions for you, lass. What's one more?"

She laughed again and stood. "I'll see you at Honeyside, then."

He spent most of the next hour, pacing, the paperwork forgotten. His thoughts raced with possibility and he had numerous conversations with her in his head, trying to plan out what he would say. He was less concerned with her reactions after their brief interaction, but it still worried him. He'd made a vow and he would not break it, but he hadn't even considered what he would do once it was done.


	2. The Reunion

####  **Chapter 2 - The Reunion**

The torches outside her house were lit when he finally arrived. He couldn't wait much longer than the hour he'd requested and had rushed out of the Ragged Flagon, much to Delvin's amusement. Brynjolf didn't care. Nothing mattered except that she was back and he was going to have dinner with her.

She answered the door with a smile, opening it before he had even finished knocking. He took in the sight of her, never able to get enough, and was happily surprised by the simple blue dress she wore. "Aah, dusted off the old uniform, have we?"

She had worn it often in the beginning, especially when her light fingers were needed, and the damn thing had tormented him each time. On any woman, it would have been becoming, but on her it created innumerable nights filled with deliciously bad dreams. 

Beaming, she sashayed for him. "It  _ is  _ my favorite."

He grinned, remembering her explanation of it from a long time ago. She told him, with no shame, that it showed off just enough to be distracting while still allowing her able to feign innocence. It had been one of many suggestive conversations they'd had over a mug of mead, and he still savored each of them.

She led him to the dining table, already set with steaming bowls and lit candles. He laughed when he realized her choice of fare. "Rabbit stew! You cheeky minx."

"A little birdie told me you had your heart set on it." She winked at him. "Who was I to say no?"

"Look at the two of us, making allowances for each other with such impunity." He gave her his most charming grin and she blushed the way she always did. Smugly, he seated himself and she did the same.

They spoke over dinner with the ease of old friends. They laughed at stories and complemented each other frequently with barely veiled innuendos. It felt almost like she'd never left.

When dinner was finished and the mead began to sink in, they moved to sit before the fire. The candles burned low and they opened a second bottle of mead, pouring each other drinks until it was almost empty.

During a lull in the conversation, Brynjolf was caught staring. She batted her eyelashes and crooned, "You're looking at me."

"Is that a crime?" He asked in mock defense.

She laughed, brushing some hair out of her face. "It wouldn't stop you if it was!"

He smiled but didn't join in her in laughter, which she noticed. Yeera cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. "Seems like you have something on your mind, Bryn."

He loved it when she said his name but even the thrill wasn't enough to push his mind off its current track. He wanted to make a lewd joke, flirt with her more, say anything besides what he was about to say, but it was no use. As soon as he opened his mouth, it came out. "Where  _ have _ you been all these months, lass?"

"Aah, yes. That." She leaned back in the chair, glaring into the fire. When she didn't continue right away, he refilled their mugs and took several drinks before the urge to prod her along nagged at him. He had no need to because her one word answer was enough to set him reeling.

"Helgen."

In shock, Brynjolf spit out his mouthful of mead. " _ What _ ? I thought you were in Whiterun, doing those jobs for Delvin and Vex?"

"I was!" Her annoyance was tinged with shame. "I had to run."

That was news. "You? Yeera Lightfoot, Guildmaster and famed thief, botched a job?"

"Oh, shut up." She was definitely embarrassed, covering it with anger as she usually did. "How was I supposed to know Ulfberth War-Bear is impervious to charm?"

He didn't want to think about that. Ulfberth was an idiot by any standards, but knowing whatever had been offered had been turned away eased Brynjolf's surge of jealousy. "You could have, oh, I don't know, asked around?"

"You're lucky I don't want to spill my mead." She glared at him over the rim of her mug and he grinned. 

His mind supplied far more imaginative reasons beyond her just wanting to chuck the tankard at his head, however it didn't distract him for more than a moment. "That doesn't explain why you were in Helgen."

"Well, there's running and then...there's  _ running _ ." She gave him a significant glance. "I may have stirred up more than I could handle and had to head for the border."

Brynjolf was at a loss for words, which wasn't something that happened often. He stared at her for a moment, open mouthed, before his brain caught up with him. "Settle my imagination for me and explain how bad it was."

"Thinking the worst?" She smiled ruefully. "That's probably about right. The Jarl turned out to be a real stickler for his belongings. When War-Bear turned me in to the authorities, a few of his possessions were found on my person and, well...it wasn't going to end well for me. So I ran."

Brynjolf sighed heavily. "Aye, lass...can't fault you for that. I'd have done the same."

"It was my plan to skirt the border until I could make it back to Riften, but I ran into a Stormcloak camp during a storm. While they were busy accusing me of being an Imperial spy, we were attacked by  _ actual _ Imperials and they hauled all our sorry asses to Helgen for beheading."

The idea of it made Brynjolf's heart seize and he closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself. It was obvious she hadn't been beheaded, she was here before him, in one piece. It reminded him of what she'd said in the Cistern.  _ Safe and sound and whole. _ He sent another prayer of thanks to Mara and waited for Yeera to continue.

"I stood in line next to Ulfric Stormcloak himself, listening to that Imperial spit stick Tullius rant about how he was saving Skyrim from Ulfric's corruption." She snorted, shaking her head. "I've never been political but that was enough to make me want to pick sides."

He raised his eyebrows and she laughed. "I didn't, don't worry! Not trying to put anything else on my shoulders at the moment."

Brynjolf sat back, sprawling in the chair with one leg draped over the armrest. "Glad they left that pretty head there, though. Would have been a terrible waste."

"Agreed." She flicked her hair over her shoulder, winking at him. "I've worked too hard to lose my best asset."

Brynjolf hid his grin behind his mead, not mentioning that she had quite a few to choose from. They had flirtatious banter down to an art but there were some things that would have turned their playful teasing into something much more heated and now just wasn't the time.

She shook her hair over her shoulders, displaying said assets too clearly for comfort, so he cleared his throat, looking at the fire for safety. "The stories I heard said a dragon attacked the city. Any truth to that?"

"All truth, I'm afraid."

His eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head. "I've never seen anything more terrifying in my life. They had my head on the block when it landed on one of the watchtowers and started raising Oblivion. Funny to think but the damned thing saved me at just the right moment."

"Divines, woman." He wanted to throw something out of frustration but stayed as relaxed as he could. She was  _ always _ doing things that nearly killed her, why couldn't she just stop? Why couldn't she just  _ stay safe _ ?

She glanced at him, a grim smile on her lips. "I escaped on the tail of a few Stormcloaks and made it to Riverwood. They asked that I go to Whiterun and report the dragon, get extra guards to head to Riverwood in case the dragon came back. Obviously, they didn't know what they were asking."

"Did you?" Brynjolf knew there had been quite an amount of time since the stories of Helgen and her return, but he thought he knew her well enough to assume she wouldn't go running straight back into the arms of a city that knew her as a wanted criminal. When she nodded in response, he rolled his eyes and sighed angrily into his mead. 

"Well, I couldn't say no!" She laughed at his gesture but quieted after a moment, her tone more serious than it had been over talk of the dragon. "Ralof is a good man, I wasn't going to leave him without paying my debt."

"Who's Ralof?"

Her eyebrow arched, and he realized his tone had been less intrigued than he'd intended. "Why, Brynjolf! You wouldn't be jealous, would you?"

"Jealous? Lass, it's like you've never met me." He took a drink to mask the heart in his face. She knew his tells, so he didn't think she'd believe his lie for a moment, but he wasn't about to admit that the way she'd said another man's name had anger rising into his throat.

She waved her hand at him, dismissing the subject easily. "Ralof is the Stormcloak that cut my binds and helped me out of the city. Didn't know me from a mudcrab and still found it in himself to make sure I made it out alive. Couldn't very well just ignore that."

Brynjolf nodded, consoled but somehow still annoyed.

"I was lucky at Whiterun. They listened instead of throwing me directly in a cell. Baalgruf agreed to send more men and keep me out of the prison if I went on an errand to "redeem" myself and, gods, if that didn't feel like it took a lifetime."

"What kind of an errand was that, lass?"

She turned her head and it slid off the back of the chair, hanging over the edge as she pinned him with a look. "You ever heard of Bleak Falls Barrow?"

Brynjolf shook his head, trying not to laugh at her. "No, lass. Tell me."

"Yeech." She rolled her eyes, her head still nearly upside-down. "A damned draugr-infested crypt, is what it is."

Neither of them could say they hadn't done a little grave robbing in their time, crypts being a rather large source of the Guild's funds when she'd first joined. Draugr, on the other hand, were never fun, and he wondered why the Jarl would have sent her there for any reason. "Did you find anything good?"

She straightened in the chair, nodding. "It wasn't terrible in the way of loot. I think I came out ahead."

"That's my girl." Brynjolf chuckled, toasting her. She returned it, smiling as she drank deeply. He asked, "Then you came back?"

She shook her head. "When I returned to the Jarl, another damned dragon had descended on the Western Watchtower."

"You're joking.  _ Another _ dragon?" His chest sank with the knowledge that she had gone off to face it. What in the name of the gods was wrong with this woman? 

The grimace she made confirmed it and he was thinking of at least seven different deities to curse when she added as consolation, "I'm Thane of Whiterun, now?"

He laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. It wasn't that he didn't believe what she was telling him because he did. It was just incredible to think that after three months, the Guildmaster was now Thane of one of the Holds and had faced two dragons. He continued to laugh until he noticed her cover a yawn with her slender hand.

He suddenly realized how tired she must be and felt a pang of guilt for having kept her for so long. "How calloused of me. You must be exhausted, lass."

"You make me forget sometimes." She hummed, stretching a bit, and Brynjolf allowed himself to stare, this time. She cracked her knuckles and bent her head to both sides, baring her neck to him in a way he found undeniably enticing. 

She turned toward him in the chair, resting her elbows on the armrest, and smirked. "You're looking at me, again."

"You  _ are _ a sight to behold." He grinned at her, making his appraisal more overt but he meant it more than she would ever know. 

She preened, glowing for a moment. "You always did like this dress."

"Am I so obvious?" He laughed.

"To me?" She threw him a sultry look. "Absolutely."

She leaned forward even more and bit her lip, visibly enjoying how his eyes were drawn to her chest. He met her eye, unable to find humor amidst his desire, and predatory was a grievous understatement to describe how she was watching him. 

Her voice a little deeper than before, she asked, "Why else did you think this was my favorite?"

He had to lick his lips and drink some of his mead before he could think of a response. "Lass, you're teasing me…"

"No!" She gasped, twisting her shoulders slightly. "I would never!"

Chuckling, he put his foot down and leaned toward her and he looked at her lips as he spoke. "You've been teasing me for a long time, my dear girl."

"Is that so?" If it was meant to be a challenge, it came out breathy. Brynjolf's gaze flicked to her eyes and he hummed in agreement.

There was a moment where he could have told her, could have confessed he'd loved her since the moment she'd stepped foot in the Ratway and he'd been too damn blind to see it, but the words wouldn't come. Even with as much mead as was between them, he wasn't drunk enough to spill that particular secret. He did the next best thing. 

She was ready when he moved to kiss her, her hands sinking into the hair at the back of his head with fervor. His head swam with how her lips slid across his, which could have been blamed entirely on the mead if he hadn't already known it was how she affected him. He stood, reaching to pull her to him and she came easily.

Pressed against his chest, she tested his lips with her tongue and he wanted to devour her. Soon enough, it was as much a contest as it was kissing, neither of them wanting to back down out of pure enjoyment. Brynjolf caressed her curves, fingers stopping when they met the laces of her corset.

He pulled her away from him with reluctance. "Is this what you want, lass?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes."

There was flame in her eyes and he very nearly growled. "Then get up those stairs before I carry you."

Her breath caught in a half-laugh but her eyes flashed in the firelight. She tugged his beard. "Such a beast."

Before he could even think, her tongue was in his mouth and then gone. She took the stairs two at a time and he gave chase.


	3. A Little Less Conversation

The fire was lit in her bedroom and it cast a warm glow over the furs on the bed, a bed he'd been dreaming of for almost a year. Distracted for a moment, he was surprised when she spun, pulling him toward her by the laces of his pants. 

She kissed him again, unclasping his overcoat and pushing it off his shoulders roughly. She used it to guide him toward the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit when it hit the back of his knees.

She didn't give him a chance to move, instead, yanking his shirt from the waistband of his pants and pulling it up over his head.

Brynjolf laughed. "In a bit of a rush, are we, lass?"

She hummed, reaching down to remove his boots with a sly grin. "Not at all, no. I've seen you naked before, you know."

"I didn't." She was continually surprising him. He kicked off the second boot as soon as he could, gathering her to him. "And when was this?"

She moved forward, a knee on either side of him and placed herself in his lap. She looked into his eyes while she combed her fingers through his hair. "Vex dared me to follow you to the baths one day."

He exhaled at her touch, wrapping his hands around her waist. "Mmm, never could turn down a challenge, could you? Did you like what you saw?"

"Very, very much." Her eyes burned in the dim light.

He shifted on the bed, trying to relieve the pressure. "Tell me."

She caressed his face and hair, humming with her lip between her teeth. "Seeing you bare like that...mmm. Gives a girl some indecent thoughts. Had to take a few moments to myself, if you catch my drift."

Her chin tilted defiantly, she commanded, "Now, remove me from this dress the way I know you've always wanted to."

He pulled her into a kiss, ravaging her mouth as he pulled the laces of her corset open. She threw it to the side once he was done and he pressed her back until she stood.

He held her by the hips, tipping his chin up in indication. "Off your shoulders."

She complied, a smile replacing her frown at being pushed away, but he stopped her from removing it completely once she'd slipped the fabric down enough. He didn't bother hiding the roughness of his voice. "This...is how I've wanted to remove it. Ever since the first time you wore it."

Slowly he pulled it down her arms, groaning when her breasts were finally exposed. He kissed each peak, not noticing when she slipped her arms out of the sleeves. He kissed a path to her navel, continuing to push the fabric lower.

She shimmied her hips out of the dress and he was delighted to find she wasn't wearing smallclothes. He pulled her to him, running the flat of his tongue across the scars on her stomach and dared to run his fingers through the hair between her legs.

He watched her head tip back as he tested her, able to slide his finger inside her with no resistance. Impressed and awed, he murmured, "By the Nine, love, how badly have you wanted this?"

She sank into his lap again, pushing his finger deeper insider her in the process. When she met his gaze, her eyes were hooded and filled with desire. She reached between them, squirming as his finger slid out of her, and brought the digit to her lips. She held his eyes with hers as she licked his finger clean. " _ Badly _ ."

He flipped her onto her back, hovering over her. "Tell me."

"You enjoy hearing about it, don't you?" She laughed.

He whispered against her lips, " _ Badly. _ "

She moaned as he kissed her, speaking only when he paused for breath. "Days. Months. Mmm, been imagining...what I would do to you...when I returned...GODS why are you still wearing trousers!?"

"Months, love? How many moments to yourself have you needed?" They worked together to remove the offending apparel, but he was not deterred from the subject. 

She laughed again. "Too many to count."

He definitely growled. 

After a moment, though, a thought struck him and he pulled back. "Am I your first, lass?"

"Am I yours?" She asked with an eyebrow raised in surprise.

He shrugged after thinking about that. "Fair enough."

She whimpered into his mouth, though, as he pressed slowly inside her. There was a moment where she made a noise of pain and he froze. As he was about to ask after her, she interrupted him with a moaned plea. "Please don't stop, Bryn!"

The sound of his name from her lips was enough to drive him until he was fully inside her. He was hurrying, he knew, but it wasn't going to take much more for him and he wanted her to enjoy it. He lifted her hips and she arched her back, wrapping her strong legs around him. She told him when she liked what he was doing, bringing him closer and closer to the edge with each moan.

"Will you come for me?" 

Those sultry eyes were back and he slowed, for fear of peaking too early. "Ladies first."

She pulled him down by his neck, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging firmly. "I like your style."

He continued on slowly, deeply, holding back as long as he could. Just when he thought he couldn't wait any longer she moaned against his lips, "Say my name, Bryn."

"Yeera, please…" was all it took and he watched her come undone. So sweet was the sight, he almost didn't recognize his own climax. He rode through the waves watching her cry out. It was, by far, the most gorgeous way he'd ever heard his name. He cherished it.

"Oh, lass…" They lay wrapped around each other, foreheads touching, just trying to breathe. He brushed away the hair that clung to her face, sweat glistening in the fire light. "So beautiful."

The only sound for a few minutes was the crackling of the fire.

"I need to tell you something." They both said at the same time.

Brynjolf laughed, pretending he wasn't instantly concerned. "Alright then. You first."

"No." She shook her head with a soft smile, her dark hair getting more rumpled against the pillow as she shifted closer to him. "You first. I don't want to ruin this."

"Ruin it? How could…" He groaned. "Don't tell me you're married, lass."

She stared at him in shock before bursting into laughter. "Gods! NO! Why would you even think that?"

"I'm not going to say it hasn't happened before." He joked, feeling more relieved than anything. "Besides, it's the only thing you  _ could _ say that would ruin this."

She studied him, a wary expression on her face. "The only thing you could think of, I'm sure."

"Well, that's comforting," Brynjolf said propping himself up on his elbow to listen. "Go on, then. Out with it."

She worried her lip between her teeth, watching her hands as they drew patterns on his chest. He could wait. He had spent years learning how to be patient and it had definitely paid off. Now, he had plenty of time.

Finally, she sighed and looked him in the eye. With one last hesitation, she broke the news to him. "I'm the Dragonborn."

Of all the things she could have possibly been keeping from him, this was undecidedly the last thing he was expecting. There wasn't even much thought behind his silence because he was, for once, truly speechless. His mind couldn't process the information, it stuttered and stopped trying to connect the two things. Yeera, the woman he had only recently admitted to himself he was absolutely in love with, was also the legendary Dragonborn.

She continued looking at him, waiting for a reaction of some kind, and he finally managed to say, "Oh."

"Oh?" He couldn't tell if she was angry or hurt but maybe something of both. "Is that all you have to say?"

"What would you like me to say?" Brynjolf asked, defensive. He couldn't  _ think _ of a response! He couldn't even really understand what she'd told him. Had she been carrying someone else's child, or stricken with an incurable disease, or wanted for murder in eight out of the nine holds, he might have been able to come up with something, but he was completely unprepared for this.

"I don't know!" She sat up, glaring at him. "You're the one with the silver tongue! Something better than 'oh' would be wonderful!"

He sat up as well, reaching to comfort her. "Yeera, stop…"

"I have been dreading this for  _ weeks _ , Bryn! As soon as I found out, do you know what the first thing was that I thought of?" She scowled, and when he didn't answer, she continued. "You! I killed that dragon at Whiterun and watched in horror as it's  _ very soul _ was sucked inside me and all I could think about was you. How would you take the news? Would you speak to me again? Would you push me away? I spent so many nights trying to get back here, laying awake, wondering those things and your response is 'Oh'?"

He didn't know what to say to that either but decided he would let her finish. She turned away from him, pulling her legs to her chest. "I'm still trying to figure out what this means to  _ me _ but the only thing that ran through my head was how I would tell you and what you would say. So, I'm sorry I was expecting a little more than 'oh'."

He sighed. Of course this was hard for her. Not only was this a monumental change in her life but she wasn't a woman you found vulnerable often. He touched her shoulder with his fingertips. "Thank you."

"What?" 

She had to look at him to be sure she'd heard him correctly and he caught her chin. He felt a small smile tug at his lips. "Thank you, lass. For sharing it with me."

She looked down and he was sure she was blushing. "Yes, well…"

"You'd like to know how I feel about it, yes?" He tipped his head, attempting to see her. She nodded, not meeting his eyes, and he blurted out the first honest thing that came to mind. "I'm terrified."

Her shoulders sank and there was a breath before she asked, shakily. "You're terrified of me?"

"Not  _ of _ you, lass." He shook his head even though she wasn't watching. "I'm terrified  _ for _ you."

Her eyes peeked out from behind the curtain of her hair and he pushed it behind her ear, unveiling the face he'd been missing. "Do you know how many stories have come through town about the adventures of the Dragonborn lately? They're horrifying! More so than the ones I was sure were about you!"

She shrugged slightly, her hands twisting each other in her lap. As humorous as the sight of her looking like a scolded child was, he went on. "A Thalmor embassy? Truly? How many times since you've left have you almost died? No, don't answer that. I might sleep if I don't know."

She chuckled morosely, tucking her fallen hair back behind her ear where he'd put it. He turned her face toward him and looked at her in ernest. "I've been terrified for three months, lass, that you'd never come back to me."

Her eyes seemed so much bigger than usual with the look she gave him. It sang of hope and he found the courage to finally say it. "Yeera, I can't live any longer without you."

"Bryn…" She started to say, shaking her head and he pushed on.

"No, lass. You need to listen right now." He framed her perfect, scarred face with his hands. "I've been lying to everyone, especially you, and I'm not going to do it anymore. Do you know what I did last night?"

Her brows came together and he added, hurriedly, "I prayed to Mara, Yeera, something you know I would never do. I prayed that you would come back. And you did."

He swept his thumb across her cheek, covering the healing wounds there for a brief moment. "If the Nine see fit to listen to the prayers of someone like me, how could I not act on it?"

"Bryn…"

"I love you." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, chest clenched with the fear of rejection. When she allowed it, he felt that fear release slightly. "I don't care that you're the Dragonborn, you daft woman. You could be a frost troll and I wouldn't care! I just want you to come back to me."

She huffed out a laugh and he realized she was crying. The tears shimmered in the light, making her eyes glisten as she grinned at him. "Can I say something, now?"

"As long as it's not 'get out', I suppose." Her laughter made him smile.

She wiped her eyes, smirking. "A frost troll? Really?"

"I'm not a poet, lass. There's only so much I can do."

Her eyes crinkled at the edges when she smiled and he could live every day of the rest of his life memorizing her face. She rested her fingertips on her lower lip in thought and he continued to stare. 

The marks on her face only made her more beautiful and more dangerous looking. He reached out to touch them again, feeling the dampness of the skin there. Her eyes flicked to his and he smiled. Behind her hand, she returned it.

"You bloody idiot."

She crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs, and he welcomed her. He wasn't sure if she felt the same but something had just happened between them. More than a roll in the sheets, he thought. He'd had enough of those in his past to be able to tell the difference. 

He would take whatever she was willing to give him if this was the most he could have of her, though. It was difficult to complain with her in his lap. He held her close, burning into his memory the way she felt tucked against him.

Against his neck, she whispered, "I love you so much it hurts, Bryn."

"What?" He'd been hopeful but all this time spent pining for her had given him doubts. Hearing the sentiment returned, with the same intensity as his own, had him grinning with pleasant surprise.

She sat back slightly, eyes hooded and lips reddened. "Do I need to say it again?"

The emptiness from her time away was still lodged in his chest and Brynjolf felt that, yes, he would need to hear it again. Over and over. "Tell me."

She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up, meeting his eyes with confidence. "I love you, Brynjolf of Riften."

Slowly, he pulled her to him. She fit so well there, nestled against his chest, her heart beating against his. As his arms tightened around her, he let go of the apprehension welling inside him.

"Did you hear me that time?"

He smiled against her hair. "Aye, lass. I heard you."


	4. The Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sorry for the late update! Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos! They mean so much to me! Let me know what you think of the ending!_

Brynjolf shivered with anticipation as much as cold, his breath coming out in visible puffs from between his grinning teeth. The Twilight Sepulcher was just above freezing, even after they'd lit the fires hours ago, but he could barely feel it. His Nightingale armor was thick for being so light, enchanted against so many things he wouldn't have been surprised if frost had been one of them. In any case, he didn't care.

The woman before him was enough of a distraction to last him the rest of his life. That was the plan, anyway. He was still amazed that she had been the one to suggest all this. He'd had one simple idea; trust her to make it into a whole production. He supposed being the Dragonborn didn't help her sense of grandiose at all.

With an otherworldly sound, the corporeal form of Nocturnal burst into existence before them. "Explain yourselves, mortals."

Yeera and Brynjolf each placed a hand on their chest and bowed, intoning in unison. "My Lady."

Brynjolf rose with a stoic expression, only slightly worried about what the Daedric Prince's reaction would mean for them. He wasn't sure if Nocturnal could read minds, but he also wouldn't put anything past her.

The feminine god seemed to glance between the two of them, only noticeable by the shift of her hood. When she spoke, the Lady Nocturnal sounded spiteful. "I am disgusted by the presence of Aedric symbols in my sanctuary."

"We meant no offense, my Lady." Brynjolf bowed again, realizing too late that the motion placed his ring on display. Its mate rested on Yeera's finger, the two of them matching in more than just armor. Brynjolf stayed in a submissive stance and continued the explanation. "In the eyes of the mortal world, we would not be united without Mara's blessing."

Nocturnal sniffed, unhappy with the answer, and Yeera responded with careful regard. "However, in our eyes, Lady, we only needed yours."

"Which is something I do not do," Lady Nocturnal replied, her tone annoyed and cold. "I, unlike other Daedra, do not stand on ceremony. I despise sermons and charity. I do not wish for worship or celebration. My desires are fulfilled through business transactions, not prayer. You, as my chosen, know this, and yet you summon me for some useless formality?"

Yeera spoke for them both. "My Lady, we do not come to you out of reverence. We come to you out of respect."

The Daedric Prince stood in silence, contemplating her words. Yeera stepped forward and continued. "We have already sworn our fealty to you in life and death, to be your servants until our contract with you ends. Our only wish is that you oversee our contract with each other as our patron."

This seemed to intrigue the Daedra and the spectre folded her arms across her chest. "You want me to bless your union?"

Brynjolf almost smiled, heartened by the Daedra's response. That she had even deigned to appear was a sign in itself. He took his turn to speak. "If that is your wish, my Lady. You have already given us more than enough, we would not...."

"Because I don't give things away for free." It was hard to tell what the entity was thinking now, but Brynjolf knew this would lead somewhere. "What are your terms?"

Yeera attempted not to sound incredulous, "My Lady, we are asking nothing from you."

"But you  _ are _ , Dragonborn." The lower half of Nocturnal's face seemed to smile, hidden in the shadows of her hood. Brynjolf didn't even stop to wonder how she knew about Yeera being the Dragonborn. "A blessing is no paltry thing to be handed out without compensation."

Yeera frowned and Brynjolf began to worry. "We are not asking for a  _ blessing _ ."

"Mmm but that is not what you said, my child." Nocturnal chided. "Your words to me were that you desired my blessing over Mara's, is this not true?"

Brynjolf could tell that Yeera was beginning to fume but they both wisely remained silent.

The Prince's grin could be heard in her next words. "And my other Nightingale? What purpose do you serve here?"

Karliah stepped silently from the shadows, speaking for herself. "I am here to stand witness to their union in your eternal twilight."

"See?" The Night Mistress gestured with an elegant arm, draped in the midnight sky. "You already have a witness and, so, would not need me to fulfill that role. You have come with a higher expectation than just a pat on the head, mortal. Besides, you already have my blessings. This would be a new transaction."

Yeera's fist clenched at her side and Brynjolf wondered if perhaps this was a bad idea after all. She was already his wife by all other standards and she had been the one to think up asking the damn Daedra for their opinions. He was happy to have Yeera, with or without the Prince's say.

"You are right, my Lady. I misspoke."

Brynjolf felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead but his gaze remained on the stone under his feet. He'd never heard Yeera admit fault before and couldn't help but be impressed. From the corner of his eye he could see she was glaring at Nocturnal, defiant even in the face of a Daedric Prince. "When I said I desired your blessing, I did not mean a gift of your powers. I had no intention of creating another contract with you. We have, through your will, found love in each other, and we had hoped only to declare it before you and ask for your leave."

Nocturnal's responding laughter stilled his heart in his chest and chilled him more than the temperature. "My leave! Dear child, when has my leave ever concerned you before? Have you not lived your lives without my interference? And your  _ love _ is useless to me. It involves me not and why should it? Why would you initiate trade when you have nothing to give?"

The Daedra swayed in the air above them, moving her hand to her chin in a parody of thoughtfulness. "Hmm. I wonder. Will this union produce children?"

" ** _NO!_ ** "

Brynjolf and Yeera yelled at the same moment, and Brynjolf didn't hesitate after the vehement statement. "I will not bargain with the soul of another! That is  not a trade I will make."

The Prince crossed her arms over her chest, as if pouting. In the tense silence that followed, Brynjolf considered if they had answered for the same reason. He chanced a look at her, his wife, standing beside him with her fists clenched at her sides, head bowed in anger. 

He hadn't ever thought about having children outside of the concern not to get anyone with child. He had always walked that fine line with great caution and, as far as he knew, it had worked. Now, though, he realized there wasn't a woman in Nirn he would rather have children with. It surprised him and worried him at the same time. What if she didn't want them? How would he feel?

It was her choice, obviously, and he wouldn't push her if that was her desire, but he couldn't help the hope that sprung up inside him at the thought of her holding their child in her arms. He wanted that now, and he wouldn't be able to smother the idea as it cemented itself in his chest. He  _ did _ want children. What a strange thing. 

Yeera's hood rose as she looked up at the Daedra, her eyes shining with fury. Her voice was firm and it struck him with awe that he had been blessed to take such a brave woman as his wife. "We will not give you our children."

Before the Price could huff in annoyance, Yeera continued. "But I think I may have a counter-offer."

The Daedra was taken back and lowered her arms in surprise. "I will hear it, then."

"If we are lucky enough to convince and bear a child, I would ensure to bring them before you. The choice, though, would be theirs."

Yeera looked at Brynjolf, questioning him with her eyes. She was asking if he was okay with this. His heart leapt. He spoke before he thought, which happened quite often around her. "You want to have my babes?"

Yeera looked both relieved and concerned, her brows coming together as a smile hid in her cheek. He knew her expressions well enough that he could almost hear her saying what she thought. She was glad that he was agreeing to having children and terrified of the promise they were making for them. He felt the same.

"Why wouldn't I?" She whispered, her eyes locking him in place.

He swept back her hood and cupped her jaw. "A man like me? Are you sure, lass?"

She grinned, shrugging as she looked away. "I think this world needs another red-haired trouble-maker to steal its heart."

"A girl?" Brynjolf asked, his tone more hopeful than he expected.

She shook her head, confused. "And here I thought you'd want a boy."

"I do." He brought his other hand up to brush her cheek. "Can't I have both?"

Yeera's eyebrows almost touched her hairline but Nocturnal interrupted. "Would this promise extend to all your children?"

They stared at each other, both trying to reach a decision without words. After a moment, Yeera nodded slightly and Brynjolf sighed addressing the god. "Any we may have, Mistress."

There was a moment where the hooded figure took in her three Champions, considering what they had laid before her. Her voice echoed in the empty halls. "This is unprecedented."

No one said anything, all three keeping their heads bowed in deference. Eventually, the Lady asked, "I expect there will be vows given?"

Brynjolf bowed again, trembling slightly. "Yes, my Lady, if you will allow it."

The Prince appeared to grow in size and the torches flared, casting more light than he'd ever seen in these depths. "Then I accept your terms. You may begin."

The ceremony at the temple of Mara had been beautiful, by Brynjolf's standards. Yeera had commissioned a gown of sapphire blue (his favorite) for the occasion and had stood before him with a bouquet and crown of wildflowers. He'd worn the finest clothes he could find and had actually paid for them instead of just stealing them, in honor of their commitment.

Today, though, had been entirely different for so many reasons. It was just the three of them, in a crypt in front of an actual Daedra, for starters. The course of the negotiation it had turned out to be was enough to set his hair on end, but now that they had struck their deal, his original excitement returned with vigor. It thrummed through Brynjolf's veins, his fingers tingling with more than numbness. He faced the woman he loved and took a deep breath.

From his pouch, he removed the medallion he had crafted for her. The ebony wood was carved to resemble a nightingale cradling the moon in its wings, the symbol of the Nightingales and of Nocturnal. He knew she had made a similar one for him but he had added a little more than they'd agreed on. He ran his thumb over the etching on the back as he ordered his words internally.

"Yeera, Daughter of the Night." They both grinned, having agreed to some formality. "I stand here to make a pledge to you before the witness of the Nightingale Karliah and Nocturnal, Goddess of Twilight. May they hold me to the words I speak. I hereby pledge my fidelity to you, and no other, until the end of my days."

He offered the necklace to her with both hands, smiling at the confused look on her face when she reached out to take it. He clasped both her hands in his, holding her eyes with his own. "I know this may seem like a paltry promise but, coming from a thief, I hope you know how much it means."

She looked down at their hands and he continued. "I'm not just promising the fidelity of my body, lass, but my heart. Of course, there will never be another before you but it's more than that. You will always have my support, in all your endeavors. You will have my arm in your battles and my hands when you are in need. You have my very breath, Yeera, should you need it, and I hope you'll remember that."

"There will be a day when our contract with Nocturnal will take us from one another and I would have you know that, no matter which of us goes first, I will wait for you until we meet again. When the time comes for us to face the Everglom, know that I will be there to take your hand and walk with you through the Ebonmere. From now, until the end of Oblivion."

He turned the pendant over and let her see the word scratched into the glossy surface. He heard her whisper it. "Evermore."

He nodded, feeling the sting in his eyes at the sight of her silent tears. She pushed the necklace back into his hands and turned, pulling her hair from beneath her hood. "Help me."

He complied, placing a soft kiss on the curve of her neck after he'd finished clasping it around her throat. She turned again to face him, her eyes on the pendant resting on her chest before meeting his. "My turn."

She had never been one for the ceremony of rituals and he grinned, remembering how improper she'd been in the Temple of Mara, surrounded by their friends. He should be thankful she hadn't broken out into a drinking song in front of Nocturnal, but he loved her too much to care.

She removed the necklace she'd made for him from a pocket and held it up to him. He saw the same design (much more skillfully executed than his) for a brief moment before she flipped it over to display what she'd added. He shook his head and she grinned. "Saw you working on yours. Didn't want you to outdo me."

He laughed and she cleared her throat, offering it to him as he had before. He held it in both hands, looking more closely at the Shadowmark she'd carved just as clearly as the nightingale on the front. He tipped his head in curiosity, asking, "'Safehouse', lass?"

She nodded solemnly. "For as long as I've known you, Bryn, I've never felt safer than when I was with you. This mark has always made me think of you and, even in my darkest times, I would see it and feel you with me, giving me the strength I needed to press on. You've driven me more than anyone in my life and I will never be able to thank you enough."

She stood a little straighter, spoke a little clearer. "Brynjolf, Son of Night. I stand before you, our witness, Karliah and our patron, Nocturnal, to pledge to  _ you _ my endurance."

He arched a brow, not just at the use of his own phrasing but at her choice of pledge. She smiled her sly smile, eyes sparkling in the semi-dark. "If there is anything you know about me, it is my persistence. When I want something, I go after it with everything I have."

Brynjolf pursed his lips, trying not to laugh at the truth of her words and she continued more seriously. "I have ridden and walked for miles without resting. I have fought mighty beasts and suffered grievous wounds. I have crept through sewers and crypts, killed in the shadows and escaped prisons of every size and make. All so I might see you again."

"Every moment of every day I may be away from you, I pledge to return. If I may die without you by my side, know that I will find a way to make it back to you, Bryn. You are the only safehouse I will ever need and, in return, I offer you the same sanctuary you've given me. I pledge my endurance, to carry you and your burdens when you cannot. To the end of my abilities, I will be there to care for you, tend your wounds, defend you when you cannot defend yourself, keep you safe in a world of dangers. And, you know, all the stuff you said."

He couldn't help the bark of laughter that burst from him, despite the tears that threatened to fall. She grinned up at him, reaching to pull back the hood from his head, wrapping the tether of the pendant around his neck. "I love you, idiot."

"And I you, lass."

Nocturnal had drifted toward the floor at some point, as if she stood on the ground the way they did. After Brynjolf had spoken, she saw fit to end the moment. "That is quite enough."

They stepped back from one another, allowing the Daedra to move between them. Her hood shifted as she studied each of them in turn. "I am not a Prince that appreciates human sentiments. I've never understood them and care not to. It is also not in my realm to understand and therefore I will not attempt to do so. However, I feel I have something to contribute to this...display that may mean something to you both."

She stretched out her arms, placing her fingers on the pendants they'd crafted for each other and Brynjolf felt a surge of power flow from the Daedra into the jewelry. They glowed a brilliant blue for a moment before returning to their dulled color.

He had to ask. "What is this, My Lady?"

Nocturnal stared at him from the depths of her hood. "A little luck and, if you ask, I'll help you find one another. I feel this is fitting, based on your vows."

She moved away from them, clasping her hands in front of her. "I have heard your request to wait at the Ebonmere for her to join you. I will grant this, for whomever should see their end first. You have shown me respect when I least expected it. This is respect in trade."

"Now." Before either of them could think of something to say, Nocturnal dismissed them. "Get away from me before I tire of your presence."

As they were walking away, the Daedra added, "And, Yeera?"

His wife, twice over now, turned back. Nocturnal continued with an eerie smile in her voice, "I will hold you to your promise. Your children, here, when they come of age."

"What age is that, Lady?" Yeera shouted over the sound of Nocturnal leaving their plain.

Her disembodied response echoed throughout the cavern. "The age you began, Nightingales."

In the silence that followed, Karliah joined them, her hood pulled back to show her arched brow. Yeera looked to her. "So, twelve then?"

Karliah shrugged. "Same as I."

"And I." Brynjolf was a little surprised to learn that they all started at the same age.

They stood in the quiet, wrapped in their own thoughts. Finally, Yeera did what she did best and cursed. "Well, shit."

_ fin _


End file.
